


Almost Goodbye

by SisterWine



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Author's Poem, Copywritten Poem, Hands off! - Freeform, M/M, poem fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 10:11:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5703823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SisterWine/pseuds/SisterWine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Just keep reading.<br/>Disclaimer: Logan, Remy, The X-Men and their likenesses belong to Marvel Comics, Disney Corp. and 20th Century Fox. I make no moneys from this as I do not buy, sell, trade, barter or beg. This is purely just fiction and for fun. The poem is mine, MJE. I will sue. Hands off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Almost Goodbye

There is a storm coming  
on the horizon;  
Rippling wave upon wave  
of dark, ominous clouds.  
They change and move  
so fast that it's hard to see  
where one ends and  
another relentlessly begins.

Friday evening came and instead of going straight home, where he usually hurried off to, Logan took a right at the second to last streetlight and then a left at the light after that, arriving at a small Irish pub, set in from the corner. Being apart of a store front, the small lot was full of cars, trucks, SUVs and other modes of transportation. He wedged his three-year-old Jeep Cherokee between a small Prius and an F150, some few cars from the double glass doors and sat there for a moment. Out of a million questions running through his head, only two stood out in Logan's mind; Did he really know what he was getting into? And, What would Remy say if he were caught there?

Taking a long breath and silently arguing with himself, Logan found a part of himself actually making a solid case to his own steering wheel. After five intense minutes of sitting by himself yet talking openly aloud to nobody, Logan stopped and looked around. "What the Hell am I doing?" Shaking his head and dismissing the last 10 minutes, Logan unfastened his seatbelt and opened the door to get out. Shutting the door and clicking the lock button on his remote, Logan turned from the vehicle to face the double doors that oozed live Irish music that he could hear from a few dozen feet away.

A hesitant Logan caught himself taking a careful step forward to the open doors while looking around the lot for any sign of Remy's little red sports car. Not seeing Remy's license on a similar vehicle, Logan continued in to the pub and scanned the rather dense crowd for the man he was looking for. Finally spotting the man, sitting in a corner booth, Logan nodded to him and made his way over, catching the waitress in passing and ordering a drink. He continued over to the booth and sat down across from the prim and proper businessman. "I gotta tell ya, it's gettin' harder and harder to hide seein' you."

The businessman smiled and straightened his glasses. "Well, hopefully, this will be getting easier, after tonight." He paused as the tall, blonde waitress in a green polo shirt and black pants walked up and placed a tall glass of Guinness down, in front of Logan. The businessman smiled at the girl as she asked him if he needed a refill of Stella Artrois. He said no and smiled again as she turned and tended to other patrons in her area.

Logan smiled and took a sip of his drink. "Ah, cold beer." Setting his glass down on the small wooden coaster, in front of him, Logan stared at the dark ale and once again convinced himself he was doing the right thing. His heart had started to beat faster with every thought of what he was about to do. His breath caught with every thought of Remy's name, yet he never showed the realisation or expression of such thoughts on his face. So, he took another sip.

"How long have you been together?" Nigel MacArthur was young but more around Logan's age than Remy's. Short brown hair had been swept to one side and neatly placed then sprayed as not to hindre his presence. Brown eyes framed behind thin-rimmed rectangular glasses that, in itself, shaped his charmingly thin face and rounded jaw. He was a handsome young man and married for only three years but had been apart of his father's business for nearly seven.

Logan had to manually count on his hands how many years he and Remy had been together and came to the complete conclusion of, "too long." It wasn't that he was bad at remembering or being together had become a painstakingly daunting task but it was the fact that he was hardly there for most of it. His job required him to travel to distant lands and spend countless hours upon days upon months examining his prizes that he had recovered or saved from centuries of vandals and elements. He enjoyed his work but also enjoyed the benefits of being home and surrounded by the things he loved and more important, whom he loved. Absently running a hand through his hair, Logan sighed and took another drink.

Nigel nodded. "How far do you usually travel?"

"Too far."

"I see. If you are positive you absolutely want to do this," Nigel paused to remove a small box with another inside it from his right jacket pocket and placed it on the table, "then this should please you." What he placed on the table was a small, black rounded box with his company's logo etched in gold. Nigel slid the box across the table to let it rest in front of Logan, who had taken his sixth sip of beer.

Logan placed his glass back down on the coaster and hesitated before swiping up the small boxed trinket and stared at it. He hadn't opened it; hadn't wanted to. "I spend so much time leavin'. Sittin' here, wonderin' if this'll make it even harder."

Nigel looked confused for a moment but let it fade as he thought Logan hadn't wanted to see what was inside due to inner issues. "We kept it simple. You mentioned he was not into complicated things. Since our customers pay us after viewing and acceptance, it would only be fair to honour the trusted customer's wishes to uphold that rule. Seeing as you are an old friend of the family, I will wait for payment until after such time."

"Thanks. I'm not sure what he will say. I'll stop by the office later in the week." Logan didn't take his eyes off of the box that he now turned and examined in his hand. He heard Nigel speak his approval before finishing his drink and bidding farewell, leaving Logan to sit there and lose himself in the small box. every few minutes, Logan tilted his head this way or that way and ran his fingertips over the sharp corners as if thinking of what each scenario ended with. Finishing his drink and sliding a 10 dollar bill under the empty glass, he slipped the box into his pocket and left the pub.

Never incomplete  
Always pending, approaching.  
A breeze infuriated  
Quiet disrupted  
There is a storm coming

Logan pulled into the driveway and shut the engine off. The yard light came on and the front door opened. He was having trouble recognising the look on Remy's face as he sat there, in the driver's seat. It had been still daylight when Logan walked into the pub and now it was almost midnight. Logan could also tell that Remy looked a little perturbed to see him sitting in his Jeep, looking guilty about something and not making a move to correct it.

Remy tilted his head to one side and folded his arms as he leaned a shoulder against the frame. He had been excited, that morning, that Logan would be home that afternoon. Remy spent the day cooking and cleaning and planning something special for their "relaxation" but now, he stood in a maroon bathrobe with nothing underneath but an uncomfortable 'Fredrick's of Hollywood' men's thong that lit up and played the song, "Wild Thing" when erect. The meal had been cold for hours and the bedroom floor had been swept free of the rose petals that had been quaintly placed there, for passion reasons. The candles had burned down to a puddle but Remy's temper now bordered on flaring. His bare feet itched from standing on the rough 'Welcome' mat.

Logan's door opened and his seatbelt was removed from his shoulder. With a deep breath, he got out and stood up, his eyes never left the younger man's face. "Remy, I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? Where de Hell were you?"

The jeep's door closed and Logan started over to calm the Cajun down. "I was-- out."

"Out. Out of de country? Out of de city? Out of your mind? What does 'out' mean?" Remy unfolded his arms and moved to stand between Logan and the open doorway, unwilling to have a cheating partner enter his home.

Logan stopped a few feet from Remy. He had been so full of the evening's events that he had forgotten his duffel bag in the backseat. "Can we not do this on the front porch?" Logan tried his best to usher Remy inside but Remy didn't budge, only replaced himself as his prior stance. "Fine. I was at an Irish Pub, okay?" Logan was growing impatient. After a long, uneasy day and a torturous evening, he was ready to spill his guts and move on.

"If dis is how it's gonna be, den I quit. I ain't gonna be apart of your 'boy in every port' life, cher. I ain't gonna be wit' no philanderer!" Remy's lips pursed, holding back a painful spill of mongrel Cajun. He was better than that, better than to say something he would regret not only by saying it to Logan but to hear himself say it in a language and tone he hadn't wanted to use anymore. "Just because you go away for mont's on end and come back to dis borin, pitiful life--" Remy hadn't looked at Logan while he said it but as he finished, he turned from staring at the street to looking straight at Logan, "Je ne suis pas votre tour."

Logan gasped. His head tilted back and his eyes found a group of dim stars to settle on while he gathered his thoughts. When he finally brought his head level again, he examined Remy's expressionless face and shook his head. "I never said you were my 'trick' or 'boy in port', I was out doing something and came home just as fast as I could but, I had to figure things out, first. You're the one who keeps puttin' himself in that position over and over again. You knew my job goin' in and you still let it happen. I just asked if you wanted to go to lunch with me, not become my personal tramp in port. That was-- I don't know how long ago."

Remy now looked shocked to hear what Logan had to say. The warm night and comfort of his terrycloth bathrobe was now feeling too cold to him. Nudging the robe around his chest more, Remy shifted his stance. For the first time, he had no idea how to respond. With an inhale and a shake of the head, Remy brushed past Logan and sauntered into the house, heading for the bedroom, to change back into his clothes. He knew Logan followed him in to the house and then the bedroom and watched as Remy slid on his black jeans, over top of the "special undies" before he removed the robe.

"Wait. Would you just wait? Stop!"

Zipping his fly, Remy shrugged and stopped what he was doing, again not looking at Logan. "Why me, Logan? Out of de whole damned museum, why you pick on Remy LeBeau? Hehn?"

Standing in the doorway, Logan looked around the darkened, one bedside lamp lit, room and noted the roses that had been swept into piles, the faint scent of lilac parfume, the scattered rose petals on the bed. What really caught his eye was the small, red lace of the undergarment Remy wore sticking up from the waistband of Remy's black denim. "Goin' to lunch, that one day, I realised somethin; a week later, I still remembered it. The next drinks we had, a month later, I could still taste the beer-- let alone remember your name! It was seven years ago," Logan checked his watch "today." He loved 12:05. "I 'chose' you because you're the only one I haven't forgotten." As he said it, Logan came into the room and moved to stand in front of Remy, getting down on one knee. "I don't want to forget you." Slipping a nervous hand into his pocket, Logan pulled out the box and held it up for Remy to take.

Waiting for a long moment before actually taking the box, Remy braced himself to hear the words he had been waiting for. However, in the back of his mind, he couldn't piece the events together. "What's dis?"

Logan took a deep breath. "I'm askin' you if you'll stay with me, a little longer." With Remy's more confused look, Logan clarified, "Will you marry me?"

"You bein' serious, Logan?" Remy was more confused as the conversation continued. With Logan's urgings, Remy finally opened the box and looked inside. What he saw was something no one had ever offered him before. A simple thin, gold band with the names Logan and Remy etched in tiny rubies, along the top and a solitary date on the bottom of the band. The more Remy concentrated on the band and the question, the more he forgot about the underwear he wore, and how it now was playing "Wild Thing."

With a smile, but trying to be serious, Logan cleared his throat, "is that a 'yes'?"

Remy didn't have an answer to give other than to smile and laugh at his own silliness. As the song played on, Remy could only nod and hope that the song ended before he was able to give his verbal answer. "Oui. Yes. Uh, I will." His nervous smile had turned into a brighter smile as he nodded incessantly and pulled Logan to his feet. They kissed in the moment of silence that came when the song ended, but when their bodies touched, the song strummed into chorus and made them both laugh.

As the rain pours down  
drop of endless drops  
calm, cool and collected,  
the sizzle of Heaven cleanses.  
Metallic scent weighs heavy  
on the air.  
The sun pokes through,  
illuminating the day and  
driving the glistening beads  
away.

 

End.


End file.
